


PriestHood

by angelsandbrowncoats



Category: Batman - All Media Types, Red Hood and the Outlaws (Comics)
Genre: Crack, M/M, if that bothers you, less light-hearted anti-cop sentiment, light-hearted religious jokes, suprise sequel now included, this is technically the most canon compliant jayroy work i've written lmao
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-13
Updated: 2020-11-16
Packaged: 2021-03-10 05:40:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,343
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27549217
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/angelsandbrowncoats/pseuds/angelsandbrowncoats
Summary: When Dick comes into work late to hear the infamous Red Hood has been caught at last, he thinks he could not be more frustrated with his little brother. That is, until he discovers thereasonRed Hood managed to get himself arrested.
Relationships: Roy Harper/Jason Todd
Comments: 34
Kudos: 317





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've had this idea rattling around ever since reading RHATO #1 and seeing Pastor Beerback. This might be the first in a series of short crack!fics I plan to write about Jason. Hopefully, there are at least a few other people who share my sense of humor!

Dick Grayson had a complicated relationship with his job; he was fully qualified for it on his own merit, but his frequent disregard for formal schedules was – whether he liked it or not – largely overlooked due to the deep pockets of his connections. He believed legal reinforcement of criminal justice was necessary to avoid mass bloodshed, yet he knew the system was flawed beyond measure – why else would he put on the suit each night? His “other” job as Nightwing complicated things further; technically, he operated outside the law, even if he typically worked with the support of the Blüdhaven Police Department.

One way or another, though, Dick _did_ do his best to come into work regularly and at a decent time. No matter what his coworkers might argue. 

So maybe he had been out late last night. Maybe he had been waylaid on his way home from a massive mob bust by first a mugger and then a man too drunk to understand what  _no_ meant, or so he’d claimed. Maybe Dick had slept through his alarm. It happened. Everyone did things like that, no t just him, right?

But usually when Dick ran into work late, half a breakfast bar still in his hand, the precinct would be quiet enough that his stricter coworkers could notice his tardiness and glare as he rushed past. There would be activity, sure, people milling about, someone running to answer a call, someone else walking far too casually to be casual towards the back alley where they were (ostensibly) smoking and (definitely) cutting deals with wealthier criminals. Dick didn’t confront those guys, not during the day, at least. He just noted who did what, tracked them down in the mask, and dropped the evidence on his boss’ desk. And if his boss didn’t do anything about it, well… sometimes the classic scare tactics and totally-not-blackmail just couldn’t be beat.

The activity Dick walked into that day was, however, a far cry from this usual buzz. Crowds of reporters were held at bay at the doors, forcing him to enter through the back. Inside was hardly better. It seemed like every cop on the force was there, regardless of shift or precinct, all jammed into the bullpen.  The cacophony of shouts, cheers, and loud gossipy whispers melted together into incomprehensible chatter as Dick pushed his way to his desk. 

“Amy?” he asked, dropping into his seat across from his partner. Amy Rohrbach was one of the few coworkers Dick genuinely respected, even if she was frequently frustrated with his allergy to timetables and occasional mysterious comments.

“Ah, so you _did_ decide to show up today,” she said, but with a smile that let Dick know she wasn’t truly upset. He relaxed slightly at that; if something had been truly wrong, she wouldn’t have wasted energy on snark. 

“What’s going on here?” he waved his hand at the general chaos around him. Amy gave him a look of disbelief before she started laughing, “You really haven’t heard yet? It’s a real doozy.”

“Yeah?” Dick’s brows drew together as he tried to find any clues in the scene around him. The best he could figure was that most of the cops were celebrating – laughing, joking, cheering, and those that weren’t were looking dazed or in disbelief. He frowned, “Some… unexpected good news?”

“You could say that,” Amy grinned, “Our precinct just one-upped Elliot Ness and the Untouchables. We’re going down in history, Grayson.”

Dick wracked his brain for a moment before his eyes went wide, “The guys who took down Al Capone? Who’ve you got? Did one of the Gotham families try to expand into Bl ü dhaven?”

“Better,” Amy told him, “You know how they had to get Capone for tax fraud?”

“Yeah?”

“We just took in one of the most wanted serial killers in the country. We know he’s killed at least eighty-three people, probably more, but nobody’s got the evidence to bring him in.”

The number rang a bell in Dick’s mind. A very dangerous bell.

“You’ll never guess what we got him on,” Amy was still talking, but Dick just stared blankly.

“Dick?”

“You got… Red Hood?”

Amy’s grin widened, “Sounds like someone’s up on their briefings. Sure did! He’s in the maximum security holding cell, right over there,” she gestured to where the densest part of the crowd was hovering, “But seriously, you won’t  _believe_ the shit he got charged for.”

“I’m going to guess it wasn’t murder?”

“Nope.”

Dick let his head fall into his hands, “Tell me it wasn’t public indecency.”

Through his fingers, he could see Amy tilt her head in confusion, “Um, no?”

“Then what?” Dick asked, dread coiled in his gut at the answer. What had Jason gotten himself into now? Didn’t he know Bruce and Babs were working on legitimizing his identity now that he’d made up with most of the family? Didn’t he know that whatever stupid stunt he’d pulled might jeopardize all their hard work? 

“We bagged him for _impersonating a minister_ ,” Amy informed him, smug glee written plain across her face, “One of the most wanted crime lords and killers of our time, and a little Blüdhaven precinct gets him on charges of impersonation!”

Dick felt his jaw drop, letting his fingers drag down across his face in incredulous exasperation.

“You’ve got to be kidding me.”

“Not in the slightest,” she was enjoying this far too much, “The big bad Red Hood offered his ministerial services to an undercover cop last night.”

“And the guy managed to bring him in? How?”

Amy shrugged, “I’m sure there’s at least two dozen rumors floating around. Pick your favorite.”

Dick snorted, leaping to his feet, “I guess I’ll have to find out the old-fashioned way.”

It took him longer than he appreciated to shove and shoulder his way through the throng of people between him and his idiotic little brother, but at last he found himself standing in front of the heavily reinforced cell that held him. Jason still had his helmet on, thankfully, but it was clear that his weapons – or at least most of them – had been confiscated.

“Hood, what the hell?” Dick hissed. Jason was lounging on the bed, all but posing for his “adoring” fans, cuffed hands supporting his head with one knee artfully raised. Dick would almost have been proud if he weren’t so frustrated.

At Dick’s voice, Jason’s helmet turned to face Dick, and he got the distinct impression that Jason was laughing at him.

“You’ll have to be more specific than that, Goldie.”

“Where do I even start? How did one cop manage to get the drop you?”

“I was enjoying the moment too much,” Jason’s modulated voice sounded amused, and it grated.

“What?”

“What can I say? Sometimes the universe just writes the funniest shit I’ve ever heard. Like the fucker whose wedding I so politely offered to officiate slapping a pair of handcuffs on me and arresting me for impersonating the clergy. I barely stayed conscious I was laughing so hard.”

“You got arrested because you were laughing too hard?” Dick let his forehead bang against the cool steel bars.

“No, I got arrested for playing priest, keep up,” Jason snorted.

“Why were you even doing that in the first place?” Dick knew the desperation seeping into his voice would probably only increase Jason’s amusement, but he couldn’t help it. This whole situation was so _so_ stupid, and it was all Jason’s fault.

“I didn’t know he was a cop!” Jason protested, and Dick groaned, “That’s what everyone who gets busted by an undercover agent says.”

“No, I mean, I would never voluntarily offer my services to a fucking pig. I honestly felt very betrayed. You can bet I retracted that shit immediately when I found out,” Jason had sat up now, arms back in front of him to rest on his raised knee, radiating a cool intimidation that would probably have worked on anyone who hadn’t also seen his face smooshed against the pages of the _Riverside_ Shakespeare when he was twelve (and twenty-two. In some ways, Jason really hadn’t changed at all). 

Instinctively, Dick put a hand on his heart and said, all mock hurt, “Does that include me?”

“Bitch, it might,” Jason shot back, and Dick let himself gasp in despair, just for the satisfaction of knowing Jason was rolling his eyes behind the helmet.

“It’s okay, I don’t want your fraudulent services anyway,” he said, nose in the air. He heard Jason snort again, saying, “Well…”

“Well what?”

“I guess you’ll just have to wait and see. Patience, dickhead, it’s a virtue. Psalm 420.”

“You’re so immature.”

“Takes one to know one, Dickiebird,” Jason shrugged, “But don’t worry, I doubt it’ll be much longer.”

“What won’t be… much… longer,” Dick trailed off as a commotion from the front of the building, a slam of the door, caused the loud chatter to slowly fade out. Without turning around, Dick heard a familiar voice and let himself gently bonk his head against the bars once more. He deserved it. As a treat.

“Hey everybody!” Roy Harper’s voice rang out crystal clear over the silent masses, “Just got a call from my partner about a little mix-up on your end. Terribly embarrassing for you all, I’m sure, so let’s just make this quick and keep it on the down-low, alright?”

Dick turned to see Arsenal standing on a desk near the front of the bullpen, presumably wanting to ensure everybody could see the show. He sighed deeply.

The captain pushed forward, glaring up at him, “And what mix-up is this?”

“I’m glad you asked,” Roy’s grin was unmistakable, even from the other side of the room, “From what I understand, you’re holding my dear friend and partner Red Hood here under false pretenses. Not a good look for you to arrest a guy for something without proof.”

“I’m not sure what you think is going on, but you’re wrong,” the captain stated calmly. Dick wished he had that much confidence. The captain continued, “Despite his status as suspect in a _staggering_ number of murder investigations, Red Hood has not been charged with any of these crimes. He is currently here solely for impersonating a clergyman.”

“I know,” Roy said just as calmly, and a ripple of tensions ricocheted around the room. Dick didn’t feel it, because he had already sunk into a state of resignation.

“You know?”

“I do,” Roy flashed a winning smile, “And I’m telling you your claims are false.”

“We have evidence,” the captain countered, “The victim of his attempted con was an undercover cop, and he has a record of Red Hood’s own claim of being a minister.”

“Lovely,” Roy said far too cheerfully, “I fail to see the crime.”

“Well, silly as it may seem to some, impersonating a member of the clergy _is_ illegal.”

“Sure,” Roy agreed lightly, “Except you keep saying _impersonated_ and try as I might, I’m failing to see what you mean.”

Dick’s eyes went wide as he finally realized what Roy and Jason’s plan was. He couldn’t believe this. (He could totally believe this).

The captain sighed, clearly aggravated, and began to speak very slowly and clearly, “Red Hood claimed to be a minister. He is not one. Therefore, he impersonated a minister.”

“And so we come to that embarrassing little mix-up I was talking about earlier,” Roy looked like he was having trouble containing his laughter, “Because, you see, Red Hood most certainly _is_ an ordained minister. I have his Minister License right here!”

Dick let himself sink to the ground, back against the bars, head in his hands. He could hear Jason’s cackling from behind him, the utter _chaos_ of the hundred-or-so cops around him, but all he could think was  _of-fucking-course._ Of  _course_ his legally irreverent little brother got  _ordained_ . How had they not seen this coming? 

He found enough energy to get out of the way, collapse in a chair to the side, before he got dragged into the action. People were shouting, some were running, Dick saw at least four cases of money changing hands, and through it all the captain was reluctantly wading towards the cell  they would now be forced to open. Dick sat in exhausted silence while the pandemonium swirled around him, while the cops were forced to return  _all_ of Jason’s (somehow legally registered???) guns, knives, and suspicious canisters the true danger of which only Dick, Jason, and Roy could recognize. 

Fully armed once more, Jason swanned over to where Roy was waiting, sliding into place beside him like it was the most natural thing in the world – Roy’s arm draped across his shoulders and his wrapped around Roy’s waist. It would have been cute if it hadn’t been at the cost of Dick’s remaining sanity.

The rest of the day passed in a blur of exasperated misery,  subtly evading every cop who absently asked him  _can you believe Red Hood is ordained?_ He didn’t want to explain that yes. Yes he could. A ll Dick wanted to do was collapse on his couch and mindlessly watch television over a dinner  made exclusively of chips . 

But even this simplest desire was not to be granted.  Upon turning on his television in time for the evening news, Dick was immediately bombarded with the image of Red Hood and Arsenal, arm in arm on the station steps, surrounded by journalists. 

“ _It’s such a shame,”_ Arsenal told them, _“I would have expected better from this city, I really would have. I was rooting for you guys.”_

“ _It’s the casual mistakes like this that make people like me necessary,”_ Jason spoke dryly, _“Ministers, I mean. It really takes an astounding level of faith to still believe in a system so cruel and corrupt. Religion ought to teach us kindness, and it hurts my very soul to see these so-called protectors turn against those they supposedly protect._ _If the immorality of the police has ever stained your life, I urge you to turn to me, and I will welcome you to my flock with open arms. I also conduct weddings, funerals, and exorcisms… for a small fee. For now, though, I shall leave you with this sacred wisdom: Save me, O God: for the waters are come in even unto my soul. Have a blessed day.”_

And of course, because Jason just _had_ to be extra, and Roy just _had_ to fan the flames and add his own, when Jason stepped back from the microphones it was to remove his helmet (at least he had a mask underneath, Dick thought gratefully) and pull Roy into a makeout session that was _just_ shy enough of obscene to make it on prime time television.

Dick threw himself bodily against his couch, feeling so dramatic he could have been calling for smelling salts. He deserved the drama after the shit Jason had pulled.

His phone buzzed on the coffee table, and with another groan he checked it.

 **[Babs]** _I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I think Jason might be a PR genius_

Dick dropped his phone. After a mad scramble that resulted in his phone being pushed four feet further across the floor from where it had landed, Dick finally managed to pick it up again and click the link Babs had sent. It took him to Twitter, where he quickly saw what Babs was talking about; thousands of people were tweeting about Red Hood – not as a murderer, not as a gangster, not as a criminal of any sort – as _the priest who said gay rights_. #PriestHood was trending. Hundreds of grainy images of Jason swapping spit with Roy, bearing all manner of captions from _“Be Gay, Do Crimes, Sue Cops for False Charges”_ to _“When he’s heaven-sent”_ to _“_ _Trying to decide whether to fuck the police or fuck your hot boyfriend – why choose just one?”_ Dick felt like his eyes were burning. What had he ever done to be forced to see so many images of his little brother with his tongue down his ex-best friend’s throat?

At least Babs was happy, he sighed. Convincing the public to like and trust Jason had just gotten a whole lot easier. But at what cost?

But after everything, after every single goddamn thing, the worst part was the anecdote that Jason and Roy would go on to tell at every family event for the next decade. The story of how Jason had – apparently – spent the last six months baiting the cops into arresting him on stupid charges only to be accused the one time he wasn’t actually breaking the law.

“We played pinball _all_ day that Sunday,” Roy would say, and Jason would add, “And I served six different pickle hors d’oeurves!”

“I’ve climbed eight trees in public parks,” Roy would brag, and Jason would – to Damian’s horror – proudly say, “I offered whiskey to the elephants, lions, _and_ parrots at the zoo. They all declined, but I still offered!”

“I wore the sexiest dress I’ve ever seen,” Roy would say, and Jason would argue, “I thought you said _my_ dress was the sexiest you’d ever seen.”

Without fail, Roy would reply, “No, yours was the  _prettiest_ .”

And then, in terrifying, life-scarring unison, they would say, “We even honked the horn while making love in our car.”

The rest of the family (or maybe just Dick), so tired, so scarred, would simply stare in silence, waiting for the inevitable cheery voices to utter the last words that would free them from this horrible tale until the next big gathering.

“ _Both times!_ ”

And Dick would sink in his chair, shoveling pie into his mouth in a desperate and futile attempt to forget that neither Jason nor Roy had – at that time – owned a car. He knew this for the simple reason that they had – at that time – been borrowing _his_.

“Such a shame about it blowing up. It was so nice and roomy!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All of those things I listed at the end are (or at least were? idk) illegal in the state of New Jersey. Also I'm very proud of my immature bible reference at the end of Jason's speech to the press, and idk how many people will notice so I'm pointing it out here bc I'm like that. 
> 
> Incidentally, I did actually get ordained online awhile back, so if any of you ever do need a minister in a pinch, let me know! I'd be very down to officiate gay weddings (or straight) tbh, pandemic and no travel budget aside. Idk if virtual weddings are a thing, but I guess I can find out lmao
> 
> Hope you all enjoyed, comments are always appreciated, have a great day!


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bruce was an over-prepared parent if there ever was one. He thinks he can be excused, just this once, for never having expected his son to come out to him over the news.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First of all, let me apologize upfront if the characterizations are all over the place. I'm mainly focusing on Bruce bc he's the one I'm most comfortable writing. I’ve never really written the Justice League before and while I have some basis of knowledge for writing Clark and Diana, I basically only know CW!Barry and Momoa’s Arthur, and I know pretty much nothing beyond fanon and wiki pages for Oliver. I’m not brave enough to even try writing J’onn & I’d say the same for Hal except this is crack so I’m gonna base him on the Holy Musical B@man version. Good luck?
> 
> I wrote this at a request from gaysontodds, because they left such a lovely comment on the initial fic & because (for as little as I know about some of them) I very much enjoy Justice League shenanigans! I hope you enjoy it!

There was a staggering number of touchy subjects aboard the Justice League Watchtower. By common courtesy and unspoken rule, the items on this forever growing list were treated as taboo except in two cases: one, the subject in question had become a matter of emergency, or two, the person who got touchy about it wasn’t present.

Alright, so the Justice League may have had a higher ratio of gossiping to crime fighting. So what. Everybody needed something to do in their downtime, even superheroes. And if gossiping with each other took heroes from coworkers to friends, then that only increased their efficiency as a team. From that standpoint, not even Batman – the true anti-gossiper – had any real incentive to crack down on it.

He couldn’t help but wish he had, however, as he found himself standing stock-still in front of the main lounge.

“Holy crap,” Barry had said lowly, and that alone meant all of nothing to Bruce. It was the next words, spoken by Hal, that had brought him to a halt, “Is that really Red Hood?”

“Shh!” Barry hissed, “Where’s Batman?”

“Last I saw of him, he was working in the research lab,” Diana spoke up, voice laced with mild curiosity, “What is this?”

There was a shuffle, probably someone showing Diana whatever they’d been looking at. Bruce wished he had super-hearing, sometimes, so he could hear people’s expressions. What were they looking at? What were they talking about? What had happened with Jason? But he knew if he walked in, alerted them in any way to his presence, they would shut up. Because the rule about gossiping was not to gossip around whichever coworker made that particular piece of gossip so juicy. And every hero in the world knew not to bring up Red Hood around Batman.

Of course, that was before they’d finally gotten the chance to talk through some of their issues, finally listened to the _why_ behind each contentious action. It hurt Bruce to know how much his son had been hurting, how much _he_ had hurt his son, and he was determined not to drop the ball now. He was determined to fully mend the bridges between them until every sliver of doubt was removed from Jason’s mind and the whole world knew that Jason Peter Todd- _Wayne_ was his son, his family, and always _always_ welcome. Without the shouting and the punching, Bruce had at last managed to communicate that fact, and Jason had at last understood that Bruce’s decision not to kill the Joker was not a blanket disregard for Jason himself. Likewise, Bruce had listened to Jason’s explanation of his own methods. That he disregarded a system of laws which failed to apply to those who wrote and enforced it. That the people he defended – the poor, the homeless, the addicts, the abused, the street kids, the prostitutes – faced circumstances of such desperation that they were not afforded the luxury of philosophy in their justice. What did a personal code mean to someone who the law treated like litter? What good was arrest when there was no evidence to hold the guilty and the _guilty_ wasn’t pulling punches? When legislation backed the landlord throwing them out on a subzero night, what warmth could be found in a clean conscience?

Bruce didn’t like it, would never truly understand the depth of Jason’s hatred for the law, but he was beginning to understand the difference in their perspectives and that there were so many _more_ people coming from Jason’s place than his own. Bruce had never had to fear the justice system, and for most of his life, he had assumed that was because what he was doing was right. It had not occurred to him, not entirely at least, that his comfort with the law was built on bones made of cash and influence and _power_. But whether or not he could conceptualize the whole of Jason’s negative experiences with systems of authority, their reasonable conversation had lead to a compromise of sorts. Jason had agreed to dial back the violence and begin working with the Bats. The ground rules thus far had been set at _no killing unless_ _a life is hanging in the balance and there’s no time to think of a plan B._ Bruce didn’t like it, couldn’t stand the thought of his _son_ forced under the weight of any more lives taken, but the fact that Jason had agreed to any limits at all was a significant step in the right direction.

Which meant that – while Bruce no longer felt guilt or rage or grief when hearing the name Red Hood crop up at work – hearing his coworkers gossiping about his newly returned son struck him with a sense of uncertainty verging on terror. He and Babs had consulted for nights on end about how to present the newly reformed Red Hood to the public in a way that would hopefully raise public support for him, allow him to seamlessly merge with the rest of the bats, and theoretically get the police off his back. If all that work was rendered meaningless because Jason had done something… Bruce thought there was a good forty-percent chance he would snap. The alternative, however, that something had happened _to_ Jason, that was too terrifying for Bruce to even think.

Feeling worse than the gossipers he so detested, Bruce hovered near the door, eavesdropping with his best spy skills.

“I can’t believe this,” Barry’s tone was hushed, almost awed, “I thought he was supposed to be a cold-blooded killer?”

“There _was_ that whole thing with heads in a duffel bag, yeah,” Hal confirmed, “Seems like that’s just not as important to the internet, though.”

Bruce did not like _that_ one bit. Yes, a part of him was relieved at the implication that whatever Jason was involved in wasn’t dangerous, wasn’t _League_ business… but it opened up the entirely new possibility that Hood may have just caused an international incident.

“Goodness,” that was Diana again, “This is certainly unexpected. Good for him.”

_Good for him?_ Good for who? For Jason? For someone else? Bruce strained his ears but it was to no avail. Stupid, unspecific gossips.

“Which part?” Arthur snorted, joining in. Bruce wondered if all of his fellow League associates were gathered on the other side of the door, discussing the apparently riveting exploits of his second son.

“Oh, all of it, I suppose,” Diana said pleasantly, “It’s nice to see him doing so much with his life.”

“He’s got guts, I’ll give him that,” Arthur continued, sounding mildly impressed, “And game.”

In the hallway outside, Bruce was quickly switching gears from scared to confused. At least the worry stayed consistent. He could always rely on worry, a steady companion if there ever was one.

“Oh my gosh, I didn’t even think – has anyone seen Ollie? Does he know?” Barry asked somewhat frantically.

Oh, wonderful. So _Harper_ was involved. Bruce should have known. He fought the instinct to bury his face in his hands in case he made some sort of noise that would alert the others to his presence. Because knowing the _pair_ of them…

…it was definitely an international incident.

“I believe we would have already heard from him, if he did,” Diana pointed out. There were murmurs of assent from the room.

“You know the last time I saw Hood, he told me he’d gotten some divine inspiration,” Hal mentioned, “I thought he was just being dramatic.”

“Divine inspiration for what? This?”

“Nah, leastwise I don’t think so. He handed me a big jug looking thing and asked me to fill it with pickles.”

“Pickles? What? Why?”

“No idea.”

“Did you make them for him?”

“Sure did,” Hal said, “Figured he couldn’t really do any harm with a pile of pickles.”

_Evidently you don’t know him_ Bruce thought wryly, but he made no move to intervene. He trusted Jason not to go back on his word, even if he was more than a little nervous about Jason’s pickle prank purposes.

“Yeah, I guess,” Barry foolishly agreed. After a pause, Arthur snorted again.

“What is it?”

“Just,” Arthur sounded like he was having trouble getting the words out past repressed laughter, “Puts a whole new spin on all those times in the field when Hood and Arsenal say ‘holy fuck’ you know?”

Spluttering laughter echoed in the room, accompanied by Diana’s more dignified but still heartily amused chuckle.

Bruce had heard enough. Clearly his colleagues did not deem whatever Jason had done to be a serious problem, and he had no interest in hearing their immature banter, especially not with regards to his son. He would work out the rest of this mystery on his own, and then he would track down Oliver and harass him about whatever it was.

He stalked towards gym, where the security logs informed him Oliver ought to be, and pulled out his compact tablet on the way. In a surprising turn of his luck, it took him no time at all to stumble across the story that his teammates had almost certainly been discussing. However, the contents of the research achieved what none but the most terrifying and powerful of villains could accomplish: they stopped Batman in his tracks.

Standing completely frozen in the halls of the Justice League Watchtower, staring blankly down at the screen in his hands, Bruce wondered what exactly he had done, as a parent, to produce such a result.

Unmoved by his infinite despair, the headlines stared cheerily back at him.

**Red Hood Reveals All in Inspirational Speech  
** The infamous Red Hood dropped three major bombshells on Blüdhaven journalists outside the police precinct this morning. And no, they weren’t the kind that goes _boom_!

**No Police at Pride, Just This Gun-Toting Priest**   
…with his hot archer boyfriend, we hope <3

“ **All Are Welcome,” Red Hood Promises, “Except Nazis, Pigs, and Assh*les”  
** Is this ‘intolerance of intolerance’ the future of religion?

**Gayngster’s Ominous** **Message** **to the Head of the Church** **After LGBT Controversy…** **“I have a lot of experience with heads”  
** Minutes after coming out as both a minister and a mlm, Red Hood was attacked by various conservative church authorities. Here’s how he responded:

**Gay Couples Around the World Already Lining Up to be Married by Gotham Gangster  
** “I’m not surprised,” one bride-to-be commented, “I came out to most of my family through the wedding invites, but now I don’t have to worry about homophobic comments at the ceremony. I mean, who’s gonna start sh*t when the minister’s got a holy book in one hand and a desert eagle in the other?”

**White CEO Angrily Burns Red Hood Merch After Gay Reveal [Video]  
** “I honestly feel really betrayed. I always felt like we were really similar, so to find out that he’s a f***ing commie SJW is such a disappointment.”

**Red Hood/Arsenal Might Just Be This Year’s Cutest Couple  
** Vote on the best couple name for everyone’s new favorite anti-heroes!

**Bl** **ü** **dhaven Blunder:** **Red Hood Addresses Structural Inequality After False Arrest  
** Pressure builds against police corruption in America, highlighted today by the false arrest and subsequent release of the Red Hood, suspected crime lord and – apparently – man of faith. This disastrous move may have been a simple mistake, but many are beginning to wonder about the accuracy of the other accusations laid against Hood.

  
  


Oh. Oh this was… was this bad? Bruce furrowed his brow. He… wasn’t actually sure. He felt the distinct impression, from years of honing his Dad Instincts, that he ought to be mad at Jason right now, but he wasn’t quite sure what for. The last article in particular… there was no doubt in his mind that Babs had already read it twice over and had brainstormed a plethora of ways to use this new development in their favor. And yet, Bruce could practically feel the Disapproval TM radiating off him the longer he stared at the articles and the preview images of what was clearly a kiss between Red Hood and Arsenal that had spread like wildfire across the internet.

Arsenal. Right. This wasn’t _just_ Bruce’s problem.

Pushing down the possibly sadistic smile Bruce felt at that reminder, he channeled his displeasure into the aura of doom and gloom the others swore he always had. They didn’t need to know how much effort he put into cultivating it.

Upon reaching the gymnasium, he slammed the door open, letting it clatter against the wall as he strode in with great purpose. Oliver froze, looking up at him in the midst of hitting a punching bag, remembering physics a half-second too late to stop the inevitable and was promptly smacked across the face and chest with the bag.

A gruff, “oof,” sounded from him as he tried to steady the bag, stepping away to stare at Batman with trepidation. He wiped a streak of sweat from his brow, curiosity triumphing over his nerves as he walked over.

“Batman? What’s up?”

“Have you seen this,” Batman growled, thrusting the tablet in Oliver’s face. Oliver blinked, taking the tablet and focusing on it for a moment. Bruce saw the exact moment his eyes widened in recognition and realization. He watched as Oliver clicked something, eyes scanning over the device as he scrolled, growing progressively wider. His jaw even dropped in one particular instance. Bruce leaned forward ever so slightly to peer at what had elicited such a reaction; he wished he hadn’t.

Oliver had opened the images tab, and among the hundreds of captioned images of the kiss, he had managed to find the work of a commendably fast artist who had clearly used the picture of said kiss as a reference… sans clothing. Below, in the “related” images, he caught a glimpse of a drawing of Red Hood in a pin-up pose before Oliver’s frantic attempts to close the picture succeeded. Bruce briefly wondered if he truly needed his eyes to continue protecting Gotham, but discarded the thought as it would do nothing to remove the _memory_ of the image he had just seen.

“What the ever-loving _fuck_?” Oliver whispered emphatically.

“Were you aware of your former ward’s relationship with my son?” Bruce asked flatly. In truth, he wasn’t all that surprised now that the shock of seeing them making out across the internet had faded. Jason had become awfully close with Roy Harper in the last few years, although in Bruce’s defense Jason hadn’t ever really had a close friend before. It was hard to deduce exceptions to a baseline without a baseline, or maybe keeping everyone else at arm’s length _was_ Jason’s baseline. He hoped not. Regardless, however, he reveled in the boggled expression of Oliver Queen that was before him. 

“I was most certainly not,” Oliver blinked helplessly, “I thought they were just friends! I didn’t even know Roy was into men!”

Bruce snorted, “That is why _I_ am known as the World’s Greatest Detective and you are not.”

Oliver’s shock melted into a more familiar annoyance and he asked, “Oh yeah? You telling me you knew _Jason_ was into men?”

“…” He may have had a point, but Bruce refused to concede. Oliver didn’t need the satisfaction. Instead he said, “Irrelevant. Jason is an incredibly private person. Roy Harper, on the other hand…”

“And you’re so well known for respecting your kids’ privacy?” Oliver raised a doubtful eyebrow. Bruce glared harder. After a staring contest that lasted for a good few minutes, Oliver sighed and asked, “Alright, so what do you want to do about it?”

“I’m calling a meeting,” Bruce decided in the moment, “Get the League to the conference room and tell Harper to join us. I’ll handle Jason.”

Oliver opened his mouth, presumably to argue or make assumptions about Bruce’s intentions, but Bruce just glared at him until he closed it and presumably went to do as he was told.

In truth, he didn't have an issue with Jason dating the archer. He would have preferred someone _not_ connected with Queen, and he would have preferred his son to feel comfortable enough to come out to him _before_ doing so on national television, but as he often reminded his children, it was nice to want things.

About an hour later, Batman was seated at the head of the conference table, Red Hood and Arsenal at the other end, with the Justice League lining the sides. Clark was refusing to make eye contact with Bruce, which betrayed that he also knew why they were there.

This was why Batman felt fully confident opening the meeting by saying, “I think we all know why we are gathered here today.”

“In the sight of the Lord,” Jason added unhelpfully.

Bruce just barely resisted the urge to slam either his fist or his head against the table.

“A story has taken the national media by storm,” he continued through gritted teeth, “One which I know you are all aware of.”

He paused momentarily to enjoy the sound of shuffling feet from the more repentant (or perhaps simply scared) gossips. Diana smiled pleasantly at him.

“Such an occurrence would normally not be worthy of note to the Justice League,” he trudged on, in his opinion, admirably, “However, as some of you may know but many of you may not, the independent vigilante known as the Red Hood, who has in the past fashioned himself an Outlaw, has recently agreed to work alongside myself and my team once more.”

A ripple of surprised murmurs spread across the table from the members who were less close with the Batfamily.

“In two weeks time, I intended to hold a meeting quite similar to this to unveil the work of Oracle in re-imagining the Red Hood as a vigilante who is decidedly on the side of good.”

“Ew, sounds dull,” Jason called out from across the room, and Roy added, “I know right?”

Bruce felt a muscle in his jaw twitch from how hard he was clenching it.

“Thanks to certain events which occurred this morning, plans have changed,” Bruce explained with a long-suffering sigh, “Hence today’s meeting.”

“Get on with it!” Jason heckled, hands cupped around his helmet despite there being no mouth on it, “I’ve already wasted one whole lifetime listening to you! Some of us have places to be.”

“Really, Red Hood?” Batman growled, “Pray tell, where might that be?”

“I never pray and tell,” Jason sniffed delicately, although it didn’t quite achieve his intended effect through the modulator in his helmet, “But Roy and I have Gregorian chant practice in an hour.”

“Say that again?” Oliver’s face was frozen in a bemused expression as he stared at Roy.

“We joined a choir of gay monks,” Roy nodded, grinning widely, “I mean we’re only honorary members because neither of us are monks, but Jaybird’s voice is downright _sinful_ and you know what they say – the couple that chants together stays together!”

“I don’t think anyone has ever said that. Ever,” Oliver argued, but Roy clearly could not have cared less.

“Let me get this straight,” Clark attempted to begin, before Roy cut him off with, “If you’re getting something straight then you’re getting something wrong.”

As if to prove his point, he draped himself across Jason, ending up more in Jason’s lap than his own chair. Jason’s arm stretched over him on instinct, fingers burying in long red hair.

“Oh, my bad,” Clark corrected himself unnecessarily, “I hope you both know I’m so happy for you! But there are some things I’d like to _clarify_.”

“Thanks, Supes!” Jason was definitely grinning beneath the helmet, “I knew we could always come to you for support.”

“Of course you can!” Clark insisted, and Bruce could feel his teeth grinding against each other. He knew Jason was deliberately trying to get under his skin, but he couldn’t bring himself to care as he interrupted, “You’re really going to prioritize medieval music over an official meeting with the Justice League.”

“What can I say, B, the _Ordo Virtutum_ slaps.”

Bruce didn’t even want to know what that meant. He channeled his glare towards the sounds of stifled laughter coming from beside him, causing Barry to swiftly adopt a thoroughly overdone look of seriousness and Diana to do absolutely nothing to hide her amusement.

“He’s right, Bruce,” she said lightly, “The _Ordo Virtutum_ is a beautiful composition from a woman who would not have been out of place on Themyscira. It most certainly… slaps.”

From the delighted but vaguely robot gasp that could be heard from the other end of the table, Bruce (correctly) assumed that hearing Wonder Woman utter such words of agreement had just topped the list of best present Jason had ever received. No amount of cash he could throw around would ever be enough to beat that.

“I’ll take your words for it,” Clark, ever the moderator, said, “Now, if I may ask a question - ”

“Aw, Clark, if you wanted an exclusive, you just had to ask!” Jason interrupted.

“I appreciate that,” Clark smiled, “Perhaps I’ll even take you up on it sometime. But what I really want to know right now is if you anticipated your announcement going viral. I’ve seen firsthand the consequences of exactly this sort of thing when you don’t have a plan in place, and with your identities being secret to the world and a large portion of the hero community, it’s doubly important to know how to handle this level of mass popularity.”

There was a pause, and Bruce was glad that they were at least _thinking_ for once.

“We didn’t know it was going to get so big,” Jason said at length, “The opportunity just kinda fell into my lap, after all.”

“You come up with the weirdest pet names for me, Jaybaby,” Roy said from his position in Jason’s lap. Jason verbally ignored him, but his hand raked through Roy’s hair softly and when he spoke again there was a subdued smile in his voice, “That said, Arsenal and I have been cultivating our own online following for the past year, so we have a strong position from which to respond, both as ourselves and anonymously.”

“Anonymously?” Clark asked with interest.

“I ran a blog about Red Hood dating Arsenal before it was popular,” Roy bragged, “I’m an authority on my own relationship.”

“Why would you even start something like that?” Arthur asked, frowning in confusion. Roy shrugged, “I found this really good artist who liked to draw the Outlaws and other anti-heroes and I wanted to commission something. Best decision I ever made! Wanna see?”

No one responded, but Roy didn’t really care, a grin stretched over his face that had fear growing in the pit of Bruce’s stomach. He fiddled with his phone for a moment before managing – somehow – to project it’s screen onto the main monitor in the conference room. Behind the disorganized apps was, to Bruce’s absolute horror, the pin-up Red Hood he had briefly glimpsed earlier, now displayed in life sized glory on the gigantic monitor. From his peripheral vision, Bruce saw Oliver hide his face in his arms and was tempted to do the same.

“I have no idea how they got my body so accurate,” Jason mused, delighted amusement dripping from his tone, “I just _had_ to commission my own from them after the events of today, before they get swamped with requests. They were pretty close on Roy’s body, too, although I don’t think they drew enough freckles. And they were so prompt on the delivery, too, I’m impressed! Though that may have something to do with the few grand I dropped for it.”

Bruce really did close his eyes that time, unable to cope with the knowledge that the image he so desperately wished to burn from his mind had been _commissioned by Jason himself for multiple thousands of dollars_.

“IF we could get back on topic,” he grated, exhibiting every ounce of his self-control training to do so rather than to flee the room like his mind was insisting he try. He honestly shouldn’t have bothered, though. They never did get back on topic, Jason or Roy or both (or, twice, Barry) managing to derail every serious thread of conversation for the rest of the hour until the two Outlaws vanished to go… Gregorian chanting…

In the weeks that followed, things thankfully began to settle down. Babs worked wonders spinning stories and the newfound popularity to legitimize Red Hood and boost Arsenal’s reputation. The Justice League acquired newer, juicier topics of gossip. Bruce had mostly managed to wipe the unfortunate artwork from his mind, even though he was aggressively reminded of it any time he saw Harper on his phone. But while Bruce had mainly had to deal with the fallout of Jason’s very abrupt and very public coming out rather than his announcement regarding the clergy, Jason managed to have one last card up his sleeve.

It began the first time Jason went on a mission with both Bruce and Dick at the same time. Unfortunately for both his father and his brother, it _continued_ on every single future mission that they were both unlucky enough to be on.

It began, more specifically, when Bruce had chastised Jason for saying, “Holy fuck!” as they had been working out the identity of their current opponent. Unlike his usual abrasive responses, Jason had been quiet for once, a sign that ought to have been infinitely more dangerous.

That night, as they swung themselves out of a building, landing on a nearby roof just in time to feel the residual force of the explosion, Jason had opened his mouth. Bruce and Dick had, naturally, been expecting him to swear. That was what Jason did, after all.

Neither of them had been prepared for the sheer stupidity of the words he actually uttered. Bruce knew this, because Jason had collapsed with laughter, pointing at them after he had finished saying the unbelievably asinine phrase,

“Holy _Me,_ Batman!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize for the couple of serious tangents that found their way into this, hopefully I managed to keep up the comedic tone well enough!
> 
> I have at least five other short comedic pieces planned for Jason and Roy, so I'll probably be making a series for all of these, if anyone is looking for more light-hearted jayroy content!


End file.
